


from the world of light

by charjo



Series: unfinished, imperfect [2]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charjo/pseuds/charjo
Summary: this is the Stormlight Archive segment of theunfinished, imperfectcollection. if you haven't read the explanation for that, you might want to; otherwise these fics will look even more like hot messes than they already are.





	1. some idiots are bad at sharing blankets

**Author's Note:**

> this is the Stormlight Archive segment of the _unfinished, imperfect_ collection. if you haven't read the explanation for that, you might want to; otherwise these fics will look even more like hot messes than they already are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ditched this one because it felt a little out of character. and also because I write a heck of a lot of stuff like this, to the point where this fic felt just a tad bit excessive. what can I say? i'm a total sucker for it. it's also really dialogue-heavy, and adding action in such a limited environment is hard.

Kaladin had found the secret to happiness.

Not money, of course, although he’d found it was much easier to focus on being happy when one had money. And success was nice in the moment, but it also meant more responsibilities and worry in the long run. Vengeance had its cruel satisfaction, but it had devastating downsides. And while flying--falling--made him ecstatic, it was more excitement than happiness. Adrenaline-fueled joy, rather than the warm peace he felt now.

Yes, he was certain this was it. This _had_ to be what happiness was.

“Kaladin, you’ve got all the blankets again.” Adolin’s sleep-heavy voice was quiet and resigned, a direct contrast to Shallan’s loud and unabashed snoring.

Kaladin ignored him, snuggling deeper into his cocoon. Happiness was even _better_ if you had someone to not share it with.

“Kaladin, I'm _freezing_.”

“I'm not.”

Adolin pulled slightly on the blankets, but Kaladin simply held them tighter. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. “The blankets are all warm.”

No response, for a moment. Shallan’s snoring subsided as she turned over. Finally, a quiet, pitiful, “ _I’m_ warm.”

“Not as warm as I am.”

“You could be warmer.”

“Sure, if I was on fire. But I certainly don't want that.”

“This reminds me uncomfortably of a conversation I’d rather forget,” Shallan muttered. Kaladin hadn’t realized she’d awoken.

“What conversation?”

“Give the blankets back, Kaladin.”

“Answer the question.”

“No. Give them back.”

“No.”

“Storming man,” he heard her mutter, and he felt a strong yank on his blankets. “Kaladin, it's cold outside.”

“It isn't cold in here.”

“It is when _someone_ is hogging the blankets.”

“But it's still not cold in _here_. In the blankets.”

Shallan kicked him. He barely felt it. Another advantage to having all these blankets.

“Ash’s eyes, you insufferable--”

“Shallan.” Adolin sounded more awake now. “It's okay, you don't have to--”

“I'm storming _cold_.”

He was like blanket chouta, warm and secure. Impervious to the cold _and_ to the pleas of his partners.

“I don't think we'll be able to get him out,” Shallan grumbled. Kaladin smirked smugly, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Could we get some from somewhere else?”

“Not inconspicuously. And where?”

“I don’t know. We should start keeping extras in here.”

“We did _._ They stopped being extras when we started using them all the time.”

“Extra extra blankets, then.”

He heard Shallan sigh. Poor, unfortunate souls.

* * *

“Wait,” Adolin whispered. “I have an idea.”

Kaladin suddenly felt his blanket cocoon being lifted and felt a brief spike of alarm. “What are you doing?”

“You're in the blankets, and we want the blankets over us. So we'll just put you on us if you're not going to let go of the blankets.”

That was better than what he'd thought they were going to do. All the same, storm Adolin and his arm strength. Shallan would never be able to do this on her own.

Nor would she have wanted to, judging by her exaggerated wheezing.

“This was not a good idea, Adolin,” Shallan muttered, voice strained. “ _Storms,_ he's heavy.”

“It's the muscle,” Adolin helpfully explained. “It's not too bad. You're warmer now, aren't you?”

“At the expense of my _lung capacity_.”

Kaladin grunted, wiggling around in the blankets. “I agree with Shallan. This was a bad idea.” Even with the blankets, the unevenness of the surfaces he was lying on made everything uncomfortable.

“Stop moving around, Kaladin, you're going to crush my lungs.”

“It's not my fault I'm here. Talk to Adolin.”

“Your hair is getting in my face,” Adolin said.

“Mine?”

“No, Kaladin’s.”

“Wouldn't be in your face if you hadn't put me on top of you.”

“Wouldn't have put you on top of us if you'd shared the storming blankets.”

“Wouldn't be hogging them in the first place if you two would get closer to me so I’m not cold.”

“That’s _it?_ ” Shallan hissed. “ _That’s_ why you--”

“We’re close to you now, though,” Adolin interrupted. “So you could give them back.”

Kaladin stopped moving and considered it. “I don't really feel like being in the middle right now.”

“I'll be in the middle, then,” Shallan snapped. “I'm cold.”

“We thank you for your noble sacrifice, Shallan Davar,” Adolin muttered, scooting over to make room. Kaladin reluctantly unraveled the blankets and rolled off of Shallan, settling on her other side. “Ooh. Thanks for warming up the blankets, Kaladin.”

“That _does_ feel nice.”

“Storming cold, now, are you?” Kaladin grumbled, moving closer to Shallan under the blankets.

“Not anymore,” she said smugly. Kaladin grunted, and she laughed and kissed his nose.

“Aw, how come Kaladin gets a kiss?” Adolin whined.

Kaladin lifted his head so he could see him. “You want a storming kiss?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I _would_ like a storming kiss.”

“You want a kiss? I'll storming give you a kiss. I'll kiss you.”

“Will you? I don't know if you can do it.”

“I'll do it. Just try me.”

“Prove it.”

Shallan rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to move so you can reach him?”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

Shallan scooted down, and Kaladin reached over her head and kissed Adolin’s forehead. She sighed theatrically. “It's always such a big, dramatic production with you two.”

“Makes it special.” Adolin dropped a kiss on Shallan’s head. “Besides. We're dramatic people.”

“Seconded.” Kaladin adjusted the blankets and snuggled closer to his partners.

“But you especially,” Adolin added.

“Says Adolin ‘I'll fight you and anyone you bring’ Kholin.”

“Says Kaladin ‘descends from the clouds glowing with the light of a thousand spheres to challenge the Assassin in White as the Everstorm approaches’ Stormblessed.”

Kaladin paused. “You've got me there.”

“Nothing to add, Shallan?” Adolin teased.

“I fully acknowledge and accept that we're all quite dramatic. No need to add anything.”

“That's fair.”

Adolin sighed contentedly. “You're both absolutely insufferable.”

“I love you too, dear,” Shallan said, just as Kaladin said, “You're more insufferable.”

“Go back to sleep, Kaladin.”

“You go back to sleep.”

“I think I will.”

“Yeah. You'd better.”

* * *

Perhaps the secret to happiness deserved revision.

Not that they needed to know that.


	2. dreams of disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shallan has nightmares. Specific, haunting nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written pre-Oathbringer, became a tad bit irrelevant after it. I did like this one, actually, but I had some issues with the spacing of the dialogue that I didn't get around to fixing before its irrelevancy.

“ _K_ _aladin_.”

The tiny jolt accompanying Syl’s pinch was as good as a shouted military wake up call now. Kaladin sat up, glancing around to see what she’d woken him up for. Adolin was already sitting upright, hair sticking up on one side of his head. The space on Adolin’s other side, where Shallan usually slept, was empty. A flickering light came from the doorway to the other half of their quarters.

“Only one of us should go check,” Adolin whispered, voice bleary and tired. “I think this is a really bad one. She might be overwhelmed…”

Kaladin rested his hand on Adolin’s shoulder, rubbing a thumb over his bare skin. “I’ve got it. You stay here. If she comes back, the bed will be warm.”

He made a quiet noise of protest. “You need to sleep. I can help.”

“You help plenty. We don't know how long this will take, and you’re exhausted. You have a lot to do tomorrow, too. Lie down.”

Adolin stayed still for another few moments, then nodded and lay back down. Kaladin swung his legs out from under the covers, wincing at the sudden lack of warmth, and quietly padded in the direction of the light. Syl zipped around his head briefly.

“Thanks for waking me, Syl,” he breathed, keeping his voice quiet. “Would you mind giving us some privacy? I don’t… I don't know if...”

He didn’t have to finish. Syl glanced at the light and nodded.

The sound of scribbling and sobs of breath made him pause before the doorway. Adolin was right, this was a _really_ bad one. All of the nights like these were bad, but this…

Shallan’s nightmares tended to be intense. Usually when she woke up like this, she was simply distant and closed off. He and Adolin often checked to make sure she wasn't in need of physical comfort or a willing listener, but for the most part Shallan liked to deal with her night terrors by herself. Now, though, she sounded almost as though she was still trapped in her dream, shaky and afraid. He braced himself slightly before stepping into the light.

Pages were already strewn about the floor around her, covered in bold lines and frantic shading. Shallan was hunched over another, focused entirely on her drawing. She'd lit a candle, despite having her bag of spheres with her--the spheres were covered, for the most part, except for one firemark. Kaladin glanced at the drawings closest to the doorway. The images were horribly, beautifully detailed, like all things that Shallan drew.

The Everstorm, an army of Voidbringers before it.

A chasmfiend, maw wide.

Fractal-headed spren with long, stiff robes.

As Kaladin picked his way closer, the drawings became more specific.

A face, eyes burned out, with features that vaguely resembled Shallan’s own.

A figure of crystal, frozen in the process of running away.

A man holding a Shardblade Kaladin recognized all too well. He felt his stomach lurch with guilt, but he banished it. It wasn't about him right now.

A shattered jar next to a person writhing on the ground in pain.

A figure in a room, lying on the floor, a sword clearly stabbed through their chest.

Faces he recognized and faces he didn't, frozen in fear.

He stopped near her, staring at the few pages closest to her.

A person falling from the sky, limp and unresponsive.

A Shardbearer, Plate shattered, a large figure poised to deliver the final blow.

Eyes burning.

“I didn’t draw these all tonight,” Shallan whispered, eyes haunted, breathing still uncommonly loud. She was apparently unable to look up from her work. Kaladin quietly sat next to her, careful to avoid sitting on any pages and keeping just a slight distance. “I’m not that fast. I can’t draw that fast.”

She was just beginning to add more detail to her current drawing, but he could see who--what--it was. Two figures, in the distance, surrounded by scribbled masses of evil, keeling over. He stayed silent, watching her switch charcoal pencils. She drew steadily despite her shuddering breaths. Years of practice kept her hand stable.

“I’ve seen so much, Kaladin,” she told him, voice shaking. “I’ve done so much. I can’t stop feeling it. I can’t--I don’t want to feel it. It’s too much.”

He thought about that.

“It can't be my fault, or I break. But it _is_ my fault. All of it.” She gulped in another breath, and the Stormlight in the sphere next to her dimmed visibly. “I should--I shouldn't be like this. If I didn't lie to myself…”

A distorted image wavered in front of them. Shallan didn't look at it, but Kaladin did. An image of herself, huddled in a corner, unresponsive and blank-faced.

“That should be me. That _is_ me. Everything that you know about me is a lie, a facade.”

From somewhere near, Pattern hummed.

The image blinked out of existence. Kaladin thought for a moment. 

“Are you okay with touch right now?” he asked her, quiet and low. Shallan’s pencil paused, and her hand began to tremble, but she nodded. He carefully scooted closer, pressing to her side, and put his arm around her shoulders.

“You and I are opposites that way,” he said softly. She didn’t move. “When I get overwhelmed, when so much is happening… I get numb. Nothing matters. There’s no use in trying. Everything is always my fault, so maybe if I stop doing anything, bad things will stop happening to the people around me. And when that happens, I’d give anything to feel. Just… just to know I’m still there.”

Shallan forced a morose chuckle, tears beginning to drip down her face. “That _is_ the opposite.”

“I fear that. The numbness, what it makes me become. But I don’t know if I could stand feeling all of it either.”

“I know I can’t.” Shallan put her drawing pad on the ground so not to ruin it with her tears, bringing her charcoal-dusted hands to her face.

“I think we can deal with those similarly, though,” he continued, gently resting his head on hers. “If we just take it one day at a time.”

“I can’t. There’s so _much_. It’s so difficult.” Shallan’s voice broke painfully, and her breaths hitched with sobs. “All of this. _Every day_ , Kaladin.”

“It is difficult,” he agreed, keeping his tone calm and soft. “It’s always going to be a lot. But some days it’ll feel like less. Especially when you realize you have a lot of people ready to help you, Shallan. We’re here when you need us, and we can help you deal with it.”

“What if you can’t?” she asked. “You have bad days too, and so does Adolin. What if we all have bad days at the same time?”

“The ardentia will be moving here soon enough,” Kaladin said. He'd thought about this already, thankfully. “They have specially trained ardents for difficulties like this, don’t they?”

Shallan nodded, trying to keep her panicked breathing quiet. Kaladin moved his hand to her back and rubbed small circles there.

“As soon as they get here, we can go see if they can help you. And me. Surely there’s at least one who can be of assistance.”

She glanced at one of the drawings. The one with the shattered jar, with the figure in pain. “You’ll need to make sure. I need you and Adolin to check to make sure they’re okay.”

“We will. We can do that.”

Shallan stayed huddled there for another few minutes, trying to regain control of her ragged breathing. Kaladin stayed there, quietly breathing with her. Slowly, slowly, her breaths deepened, shuddering to a calmer state.

“I think I can go back to bed now,” she whispered, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Okay. Do you want to go to your own room, or to stay here?”

It took a few moments for her to respond. “I don't want to be alone.”

“Okay. Adolin’s waiting. Do you need help?”

“I don’t think so.” Shallan stood up, stumbling slightly. “I should… I should clean these up.”

“I’ve got it. You go talk to Adolin for a bit, okay?”

She nodded, shuffling out with slumped shoulders. It took mere moments to carefully gather and stack the papers, making sure none of them smudged. He stared for a long time at her last one, the image of the dying figures in the distance.

Syl fluttered to his shoulder, taking the young woman’s form again and looking at the picture, troubled.

“Do you think this could be real?” he asked her quietly. “Could she be seeing the future? Can she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Syl whispered solemnly. “I don’t remember.”

Kaladin stared at it a moment longer, then put the picture in the pile and placed it face down on a desk in the corner, snuffing the light. One day at a time. They could deal with that if or when it happened.

He padded back into their bedroom. Adolin had moved to the edge of their bed so Shallan could be in the middle, and he was already folded around her comfortingly, whispering words into her hair. Kaladin got in on the other side, curling gently at Shallan’s back.

“Thank you both,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Kaladin tried not to think of the possibility that she might have to find out. “We’re here for you, Shallan,” he murmured instead. “For as long as we can be.”


	3. bits and pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically idea scraps.

**soulmate au**

Adolin gritted his teeth, fixing his Stonestance and trying to block out the mild sense of panic faintly buzzing in the back of his head. It had been throwing him off all day, throbbing like a headache and twisting his stomach with a touch of nausea. Zahel, standing across from him, must have noticed, but said nothing. Adolin tried his best to block it out and focus on his form. If he could just get this technique down, he could take down the--

**_NO!!_ **

Adolin stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping in shock as an incredible, devastating _pain_ smashed through his mental barriers and smothered any coherent thought. His Shardblade puffed to mist as Adolin dropped it to raise his hands to his head. He dimly recognized Zahel running towards him.

_TIEN!!_

That was _Kaladin_ screaming. What had happened to Tien?

 _NO,_ **_NO_** _… TIEN…_

Grief crashed over him, and Adolin hunched over. Any attempts he made at sending a thought to Kaladin was drowned out by the intense emotion, so he reached out to Shallan.

_What should we do?_

_I don't know._ She sounded panicked. _They can't find me like this. We have to get him to stop._

 

**leverage "au"**

There was Kaladin, with his dumb fake glasses and real ponytail, expression softened into his character’s mild contentment. He almost looked harmless, despite his physique and security guard uniform.

“Huh,” said Amaram, peering into the bright room. “I think I know that man.”

“Probably not. It is probably a trick of the light.”

* * *

“I’d like to see you do an accent,” Adolin muttered, pretending to hit him again.

“I’d like to see _you_ do one.”

“I took a class back in Kholinar!”

Dalinar cleared his throat, covering his words. “Get on with it, son, I can’t buy you much time.”

“Not too fast! I’m still working on the locks!” Shallan hissed.

* * *

“You know, we should do stuff like this more often, Kaladin,” said Adolin, adjusting his position as he held Kaladin to the ground. “But more… personal.”

Kaladin actually growled. “Trust me, you’re not gonna be getting _anything_ more often after this.”

“Does anybody besides me remember that _Dalinar_ has to listen to this on his comms in Sadeas’s office?”

“Thank you, Shallan.”

“What was that?” Adolin heard Sadeas say.

“Nothing, old friend. Nothing at all.”

* * *

“Hi,” Adolin breathed, pressing close.

“Hi.” A wisp of Stormlight left Shallan’s mouth and evaporated. Her eyes glowed faintly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. With you _or_ with Kaladin.”

“Storming right you won’t,” Kaladin snapped in his ear. “You’re not gonna see it up close much after the stunt you pulled tonight.”

* * *

“Det cord,” Kaladin snarled, yanking Adolin up by the arm.

“Can I just say you look very attractive in that uniform?” Adolin said, trying for a cheesy grin.

“No.”

* * *

“Why are you smiling? You messed up. You almost blew this entire con.”

“I’m smiling because you said you wouldn’t come help me if I got into trouble.”

Kaladin shifted in his seat. “Shallan made me.”

“I did not.”

He glared at her. She only took a sip of her drink.

“Aw, c’mere.” Adolin tried to yank him in for a kiss, but Kaladin jerked away, still scowling. “Come on, babe.”


End file.
